


Simple Answers

by Aviss



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes asks the question but doesn't get the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Answers

**Simple Answers**

Holmes looked at his old friend, the few remaining items of their shared life together packed in a small valise. The rest had been sent in advance to his new lodgings in Cavendish Place, the new home he was now to occupy and which had no place for Holmes or their partnership.

He had managed to hide away a few meaningful things just to force Watson to come back one last time before the wedding.

"So this is goodbye, old boy," he said, keeping his tone as friendly and neutral as possible. It wouldn't do for Watson to deduce the betrayal and hurt he was feeling at the moment, not to divine what Holmes' next movement would be the instant he stepped out of Baker Street.

Watson rolled his eyes. "Not goodbye, Holmes. Don't be melodramatic," his said, his voice filled with fond irritation. "I'll still be living in London, and we're still friends. And I can help you with your cases whenever you find you need me to."

He waved a hand dismissively at this pronouncement. "You shall be busy with your practice and your wife, my dear friend. It stands to reason you will have little to no time to _assist_ an old friend with his cases. No, this is goodbye, my dear Watson. And we both know it."

And it was the truth. Even if Watson refused to see it; it was the end of their partnership, of their easy friendship and intimacy, of shared nights with a glass of brandy and his violin. Now Watson would have a wife, and Holmes would have--well, there was always _that_ for him.

"We know nothing of the sort, Holmes," Watson said, his voice far more serious than it ought to be. "I shall come back, dear friend, you'll see."

He forced a smile on his face and it felt brittle and fake. Suddenly he wanted Watson gone so he could just grab the syringe and get a step closer to oblivion. At least for a few hours.

"Yes, yes, my friend," he said, turning to look out of the window at the street below. Anything so he didn't need to see Watson leaving. "Good afternoon then, and I'll see you soon."

A profound silence was all the response he got, though he could still feel Watson's eyes on him. He held himself still, keeping his gaze fixed on the people walking to and fro in Baker Street, all of them oblivious and uncaring of the happenings inside the houses they passed by.

"Good afternoon, Holmes," Watson said when the silence stretched beyond breaking point.

"Why?" he heard himself saying, unable to censor the word before Watson was out of the room.

"Because I am in love." Came the answer he wasn't expecting before he heard the door opening. "And Mary is good for me."

It wasn't until much later, the syringe empty and tucked neatly away in his morocco case and his mind devoid of everything except the white noise it created, that the words sunk fully in his head.

Two simple statements, delivered one after the other.

_Because I am in love._

_And Mary is good for me._

He had not said he loved _her._

And he, trice the fool that he was, had realized too late for it to matter.

…


End file.
